


Breath

by thesearchforbluejello



Series: Rogue Oneshots [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I think my brain seriously misunderstood, Rebelcaptain Week, The prompt was "tender", Whump, because there's like a lot of blood, but like it's cute I guess, in a weird sort of way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 04:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15259293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesearchforbluejello/pseuds/thesearchforbluejello
Summary: A meeting with a contact goes bad, leaving Jyn trapped beneath the rubble of a fallen building.





	Breath

**Author's Note:**

> If you're squeamish, maybe skip this one. There's a lot of blood and one (1) needle. I don't know I got this from "tender," but here we are. This is unbeta'ed and pretty much unproofread because I did *not* have time for that, so drop me a line with any errors if you'd be so kind.

There are civilians running in a screaming, frantic hoard, shoulders bumping and pushing and shoving as Cassian tries to get past them. The comms are frighteningly silent. 

There's rubble on the ground even this far down the street, angled sheets of ash and dust wafting towards him as he runs. The tie fighters come again, but they scream overhead without firing a shot, rising into the atmosphere until they dissolve into the distance.

"Cassian-- Cassian do you copy?" He recognizes the fast words and clipped syllables for what they are: concern.

"K, I'm here. I'm here." Breathing through the dust is becoming difficult; he holds the sleeve of his jacket over his nose and mouth as best he can.

"The tie fighters are retreating," K says.

"I know. Prep the ship. We need to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Understood. What is your eta?"

"I don't know," Cassian says, wiping dust from his burning eyes. "I think-- I think the building came down on top of her."

"Captain," Baze's voice crackles through the comms. "We're on our way to your position."

There are already people digging through the rubble of the bar, struggling in small groups to move the large blocks of stone that had been the ceiling just a few minutes ago. Jyn had commed them just seconds before the fighters had opened fire, trying to tell them the deal had gone sour, trying to tell them to be ready to leave. Cassian can only assume her contact had alerted the Empire to their presence, not expecting the punishment to come so swiftly, or so tactlessly as to include everyone with the misfortune to be in the building.

Cassian finds himself shouting as soon as Baze and Chirrut are in sight, "Is she alive?" He swallows past the rawness in his throat that isn't just from the dust.

Chirrut just stands, his head cocked, listening not to the mess of sound around them, but to find the hum of the kyber crystal beneath that sound, trying to find to the star-bright strand, somewhere deep in the Force, that will lead him to Jyn. 

Cassian and Baze dig where they think the entrance to the building should be, rough stone tearing into calloused hands. Chirrut waits and listens, trying to hear through the cacophony of the dead and dying, of the grief of the living, reaching out for the crystal. He hears it, then, below the noise, deep below, a soft sad song. There too is Jyn's fine thread, dull and fraying.

"She's alive," Chirrut says. "Barely."

Cassian feels the words like something slimy in his chest, choking him until he can barely breathe through the dust. 

He and Baze shift a large piece of stone; he almost drops it when he sees the patch of fabric beneath. Under the dirt, it might be the same color as the trousers Jyn was wearing, but he chokes down his hope, just in case. Another stone reveals a hand, palm up, a soft scar etched across it, a line of white. Hope blossoms then in Cassian's throat like a foul flower, suffocating as it blooms.

A few more stones and they've revealed her face and her torso, pinned between the larger stones on either side. There's blood on her lips, on her teeth, her nose. Dust has settled across her face and paled her hair. 

"Jyn," Cassian says, coughing her name past that flower in his throat, past the thorns it's digging into him. "Jyn." He uses his sleeve to brush some of the dust away from the hollows of her eyes, the soft particles in her eyelashes. 

Behind him, he hears Chirrut comming K and Bodhi in the ship.

"We need to leave this place," Baze says to Cassian. 

"I know," Cassian says, running a sleeve over the sweat that's beginning to tickle its way through the grit on his face. "I don't-- I don't know if we can move her."

"It's our only choice. If the Empire sends in ground troops, we'll be in a much worse situation."

"I know." Cassian shifts Jyn's legs, trying to get her into a position where they can pull her from between the blocks of stone. She pulls in a sharp breath and coughs, specks of blood freckling her face. Cassian looks up just in time to see and the slimy thing that's been rooting in his chest goes cold. "Jyn," he says. She blinks at him, dully. "Don't move, okay?" Her eyes narrow a bit at him, which he reads as no kidding. Her silence in itself speaks volumes. He wipes some of the blood from her face, tracing the white scar on her palm with the thumb of his opposite hand. "It's okay."

Cassian and Baze shift the rest of the stone away until there's nothing pinning her besides the two large stones she's caught between. "This is going to hurt, little sister," Baze says. Jyn blinks her agreement. Cassian tries to decide which side he should position himself on to pull her out. Her left side is angled further down, pinned more fully against the fallen stone. He opts for the right side, sliding an arm beneath her shoulders and an arm over her hips as Baze takes hold of her legs. 

"Ready?" Cassian asks. She huffs a breath that he feels against his neck and assumes is a sarcastic agreement, because, really, what else are they to do at this point.

He pulls her towards him as Baze guides her legs. She ends up half in his lap, wheezing, a fist twisted in his shirt. He holds her tight to his chest as he shifts his grip so he can stand with her in his arms. She coughs, short sharp sounds with a rattling wheeze between each. He feels the hot wetness of blood on his neck, drops trailing over his collarbone and down until they soak into his shirt.

"Tell K to get the fucking medkit open," he snaps. Chirrut does so without hesitation. Baze's eyes are fixed on the blood trailing down Cassian's neck. "It's okay," he says to Jyn as she holds his shirt a little tighter.

"Cass--" she says, the sibilance of his name barely distinguishable through the wheezing in her chest.

"It's okay," he says again, though that cold slimy thing that has spread into his belly is telling him that this is not at all okay. 

The city block is a mess of injured, frightened people. Cassian tries to carry her through the crowd as gently as possible, Chirrut and Baze walking ahead of him to part the crowd. He thanks the Force, as he seldom does, that the bar was settled near the port-- a prime location for business, drawing in all kinds of merchants and smugglers, but today also providing a mercifully convenient proximity for their escape. He counts every breath Jyn takes as they rush through the streets, counting up in unsteady, wheezing sets of three before starting over.

They're a block from the ship when she coughs again, repeatedly, speckles and spatters of blood on Cassian's skin. "Breathe," he says. "Just breathe." He can hear the blood gurgling in her throat and adjusts his grip to hold her so she's almost sitting up, her forehead on his shoulder. She gags on it, blood spilling out of her mouth, soaking into his shirt, hot and wet. 

"Sorry," she whispers. 

He turns his head, brushing his lips against her hair. "It's okay," he says, because that's all it seems he can say. He squeezes her shoulder in a shallow sort of reassurance. 

The port is a mess of people trying to escape. It's loud and confused and even Baze's stature isn't enough to make people move aside for them. Jyn keeps the hand of her uninjured side-- or less injured, Cassian's not even sure-- twisted in his shirt. Her eyes are shut tight and he wouldn't even be sure she's conscious if not for her fist against his chest.

"Almost there," he says, two words but almost too much for him to say.

She nods a little against his shoulder. She's breathing a little easier, he thinks, since that last bout of coughing. He tries not to think about the way the material of his shirt is clinging to his collarbone, to his chest over his heart. He knows there must be blood all over her face from it. He can smell it on both of them, sharpbitter.

K is waiting for them when Baze lowers the ramp, just out of sight of the crowds rushing by. Contrary to his character, and to everyone's surprise, he says nothing as Cassian lays Jyn on the floor. Baze slams his fist against the control to shut the cargo bay door harder than is necessary. Chirrut settles on the bench across from them, hands on his staff before him, still and steady.

K sorts through the medkit. "Cassian," he says. Cassian looks up, trying to shut a lid on the numb panic creeping its way up his arms like clinging vines. "You must take my station." 

Cassian nods once, then again as K's words actually register with him. There's no use arguing; someone must be up in the cockpit with Bodhi. He touches Jyn's hand once before he goes.

"Is she okay? Is she alright?" Bodhi says as soon as Cassian's through the doorway.

"K's with her," Cassian says. Bodhi's eyes flick between the controls and the blood on Cassian's shirt. They manage to get out of the port quickly, breaking atmosphere and waiting for the calculations for their jump to hyperspace finish. All the while he can feel Bodhi's eyes on him.

"We're three hours from Echo Base," Bodhi finally says once they've made the jump, the words that Cassian knows he's been trying not to say bubbling out of him.

"I know."

"I can't get us there any-- any faster. I can't." He flexes his hands, once, twice. 

"I know Bodhi. It's okay. K will keep her alive."

He sets a hand on Bodhi's shoulder as he leaves, hoping he can't feel just how badly Cassian's own hands are shaking.

K is knelt beside Jyn in the cargo bay, his hulking form making her frighteningly small. "She's unconscious," K says before Cassian can ask. Chirrut and Baze are silent on their bench by the wall. "She has multiple broken ribs-- three, maybe four. The amount of blood on your shirt is indicative of internal bleeding, which could be either from the trauma sustained in the blast or a punctured lung. Or both." He looks up at Cassian. "My diagnostic systems are not designed for this," he says, a little stiffly.

"No, but you have more medical data stored than any of us have ever learned," Cassian returns. He makes no effort to keep the edge from his voice. "You just have to keep her alive for three hours. Then she's not your problem anymore." Cassian wants to take that back as soon as he's said it.

"I'm not concerned about her being my problem," K says evenly. "I'm concerned that my diagnostic routines are not equipped to deal with a situation as severe as this. I cannot understand the full extent of the damage. I'm a security droid, not a medical droid." K's voice is too even, too soft. He may as well have said, "I have a bad feeling about this," because Cassian can hear it in his speech patterns.

"Then you must approach the problem as any organic being would," Chirrut says. "You must do your best."

K looks back at Cassian. "How distasteful," he says. Cassian almost laughs.

Baze leaves to retrieve blankets. Chirrut wanders up to the cockpit to keep Bodhi company. Cassian sits on the floor beside Jyn, wetting a cloth and cleaning the blood from her face. 

They're two hours from Hoth when she wakes up. She turns her head just enough to look at Cassian, still sitting beside her. Her brow is furrowed. He moves to his knees and puts a hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving. His other hand is still gripping hers.

"Hey," he says softly. "How are you feeling? Do you need something more for the pain?"

She shakes her head slightly. Her lips are parted and she's looking at Cassian with an expression he's not sure how to read. She looks confused, almost, but, then, K has given her copious doses of the painkillers in the medkit in the past hour. She grips Cassian's hand a little tighter.

He skims his thumb over the topography of her knuckles. "We'll be back to Hoth soon," he says, running his hand over her forehead, smoothing back her hair. It's a testament to the direness of the situation that he uses that as a positive statement. The pressure on his hand increases. "K," he says, even though K hasn't moved in the past hour and is still kneeling at Jyn's other side. 

"I've been monitoring a twenty-six percent degradation in her breathing in the past half hour."

"What?"

"Her condition is going to naturally deteriorate until she receives treatment. Treatment not provided by a security droid in the back of a cargo ship."

Jyn tugs at Cassian's hand and tries draws a breath as if to speak, but all she gets is a little hiccup of air that Cassian sees stutter in her chest. "K," he says. She strains to pull in another breath but gets nothing. Her chest hardly moves.

"There's air in her chest," K says, reaching for the medkit.

Cassian lays his hand on Jyn's shoulder again, pressing her to the floor as she starts to struggle in desperation for air. "He's going to help," he says. 

K sets a gentle finger against her side and she makes a strangled sound. He inserts a shunt between her ribs; a small rush of blood fountains out of it, spattering the floor, preceding the soft sound of air that makes Cassian's heart start beating in his chest again. Jyn draws slower, deeper breaths. 

"It's okay," Cassian says. "It's okay." He draws a thumb along her cheekbone. She nods and closes her eyes.

***

When Jyn wakes, the fire in her side is down to a dull roar. She knows she's back on Hoth, not just because she recognizes the med bay, but because the air in the whole place somehow has a vague and distasteful aroma of tauntaun. A little musky, a little sour, a lot revolting.

She sets her hand on Cassian's head, resting on his arms on the bed beside her. He jerks upright, the rumpled pattern of blankets etched into his cheek, looking around instinctually before he looks at her. She smiles.

He settles more naturally in his chair and adjusts his grip on her hand. She could lose herself in the relief she sees in his eyes. He presses her knuckles to his lips.

"You're going to hurt your back sitting there," she whispers, the words like dirt and gravel and _life _in her mouth.__

____

____

"I'm going to-- my-- you're worried about my _back _?" he says.__

____

____

"I'm always worried about your back," she says with a little huff that's much more understated than the casual air she was aiming for.

He takes a slow breath. "You," he says with an incredulous laugh, "you infuriate me."

She smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Emilie, the tauntauns were just for you, per our conversation yesterday.
> 
> Today's songs are: Tightrope by The Score (who are amazing live, by the way), and Boat Song by Woodkid.


End file.
